Madara Uchiha replayed the fire dragon Seiji had unleashed in his mind, excitement gleaming beneath his stern expression.
"This way of shaping fire-nature chakra…"
For a heartbeat, he thought of his younger brother, Izuna. Then he smirked. "No… not like Izuna. This is more like me."
He waved the thought aside with a chuckle. "Well, close enough. Izuna's fire style came from me anyway. But this technique—I'd never mistake it. No one could replicate it on their own."
If Seiji's similarity to Izuna had once left him uncertain, the moment he saw that flame technique, his doubts vanished. The boy wasn't just similar—he carried his fire style.
Couple that with Seiji's elegant swordplay and mastery over Muramasa, and Madara's chest tightened with exhilaration. He exhaled long and hard, whispering to himself:
"No doubt about it… my brother. The so-called reincarnation of chakra… could it actually be true?"
For centuries, the Uchiha and Senju had clashed. Every generation, one prodigy would rise in each clan—mirroring each other in talent and temperament, destined to lead, destined to fight, destined to destroy and love in equal measure.
That recurring cycle had sparked a bold rumor within both clans: When the old clan heads failed to settle the score, did they simply reincarnate to continue the fight?
It was a popular fireside tale. Madara, of course, had always dismissed it.
"Chakra reincarnation? Nonsense." He'd sneered at it. He was Madara Uchiha. No one's second life.
But after watching Seiji…
"Tch. Damn it. It actually makes a little sense."
Not just the fire technique. The way he spoke, the way he guided others, the way he bent hearts with words far beyond his age. No eleven-year-old should be that sharp—unless he carried Izuna's soul.
Madara remembered his own youth, when he'd just become clan head. Strong, but not yet unstoppable. He'd needed the people's support, and it was Izuna—gentle words and overwhelming strength—that secured the clan behind him. Just as Seiji had done with that Sarutobi brat.
The thought thrilled him… but also weighed heavy.
Excitement—because if Seiji was Izuna reborn, Madara could see his brother again.
Concern—because even if he was, Seiji wasn't only Izuna. He was also Shisui's older brother, a boy with his own will, his own ideas. Izuna would never have trusted someone on sweet words alone, and neither would Seiji.
"If he were that gullible, I'd stop believing he was Izuna altogether," Madara muttered, grimacing.
Humans were perverse creatures like that.
"So then… what kind of game should I set for this child? Something too crude, like the Obito farce, and Seiji would shred it apart in seconds. That would be a disaster."
The more he thought, the more his frown deepened. But the grin tugging at his lips only widened.
A real challenge.
For the first time in ages, Madara's heart thudded in his chest, strong and alive.
Then his eyes fell on his withered arm. His grin faltered. Meeting Seiji like this? In such a pitiful state?
Unacceptable.
He clenched his fist. He would change that.
For now, though, the Moon's Eye Plan had to keep moving. He forced down his impatience and wove hand seals.
"Black Zetsu. I'm speaking to you."
"Understood, Lord Madara."
"The plan must accelerate. Secure Uchiha Obito as quickly as possible. Report back, then move on to your next task."
Zetsu—this one shaped like Rin Nohara—bowed with feigned grace, then muttered with a dramatic sigh:
"This generation's Indra… awakens the Rinnegan, yet refuses to make my life easy. This whole 'proxy plan' of yours—if I wasn't here cleaning up after you, the thing would've collapsed ages ago. Honestly, what a burden I am."
Then her lips curved into a sickly sweet smile. "Still… for Mother's revival, such trifles mean nothing."
Zetsu's eyes lingered on Obito, who was training furiously, drenched in sweat.
"What he craves most is care. So I'll give it to him. Since time immemorial, heroes fall not to enemies, but to beauty. Everyone swoons for 'hero saves damsel,' but in truth—'damsel saves hero' is irresistible."
Her voice turned mocking. "Especially for sentimental Uchiha."
With that, Black Zetsu slipped back underground. A new performance was being staged—this one for Uchiha Obito.
Back in the valley—
Seiji smiled warmly at Asuma's departing figure. The boy had said something before leaving that struck him:
"Seiji, I hate using family privilege for personal favors. But this time… forgive me. For the village's future, I have no choice. When I return, I'll beg my father to place us on the same team after graduation. Please agree."
"I know you're into medical ninjutsu. I'll make sure my father gets Lady Tsunade to mentor us."
Seiji had agreed instantly.
The Sarutobi line was influence too valuable to refuse. If he and Asuma ended up in the same team, Hiruzen would never stick his son with some random jōnin. No—he'd assign the best.
And Asuma, clever as he was, had asked for Tsunade. Not Jiraiya with his eccentricities, not Orochimaru with his ominous aura—Tsunade. Strong, skilled, and, above all, useful. Perfect.
"Do your best, Asuma," Seiji chuckled, genuinely rooting for him. "I believe you'll pull it off."
But Tobirama Senju was less amused.
Watching from within Seiji, the Second Hokage exhaled heavily.
The Hokage's son, criticizing the village like that? Dangerous. Troubling.
And worse—Seiji's words to him: Asuma, think more.
Kids this age weren't supposed to think too much. Thinking led to cracks. Cracks led to collapse.
His voice rumbled low, grave:
"Seiji brat… tell me. What is it you want the Monkey's son to 'think through'?"